


Look for the Motive

by starlurker



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlurker/pseuds/starlurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke calls in a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look for the Motive

**Author's Note:**

> Unabashed, unapologetic fluffy schmoop

> From: Oliver, Reid (r.oliver@oakdalememorial.com)  
> Sent: July 17, 2010 2:43 PM  
> To: Snyder, Luciano (l.snyder@grimaldi.com)  
> Subject: The cure for death by lightning
> 
> ...does not actually exist, but Google tells me that it's the name of a book that does not actually have a factual cure for death by lightning, only an old wives' version of it.
> 
> When we were at the board meeting, what did you wish would happen as Dr. Smith droned on and on about the value of a general practitioner in a NEUROLOGY wing? I was wishing for lightning to strike at that moment and when I got back to the office, I Googled it to see if there was unconventional treatment for lightning strikes that didn't involve burns, shock and trauma. And yes, I know this is a step back from becoming a person. Screw that for today. It's only been a week and if there's anything medicine has proven to me time and time again, the progress that lasts is the progress after slow and steady time and effort.
> 
> Dinner? I'm pretty sure I remember you telling me your mom was somewhere with some person. Clay? Connor?
> 
> Reid Oliver, M.D.  
> Chief of Neurosurgery  
> Oakdale Memorial Hospital Neurosurgery Wing  
> T: 815-555-7890  
> F: 815-555-9823  
> E: r.oliver@oakdalememorial.com

Luke shook his head after reading Reid's email and pressed the button for Reid's speed dial. Reid picked up after two rings.

"I'm thinking pizza," Reid said.

"You know that you're not the chief of neurosurgery yet, right? That you're only the chief neurosurgery resident? And that there's a difference?" Luke felt the urge to shake his head again even though Reid couldn't see it.

"Technicalities. You're shaking your head again, aren't you?"

"No," Luke said, grateful that he hadn't yet. Reid had a finely honed bullshit detector that pissed Luke off on bad days, sometimes even on good days.

"Hm. Pizza?"

"What about an actual prepared dinner?"

"Unless you're coming in here to magically wave a magic wand that will cure Mr. Brisson, I don't have time to prepare anything and I probably won't be home until eight at the earliest."

"I'll cook, you idiot," Luke said. He closed his eyes, knowing what was to come.

"If by cooking you mean the skill that you have of picking up a phone and calling either Pizza Hut or Domino's for their Mediterranean special, sure."

"You know, there was this skill they taught me at school called reading. When I combine that with skills my mom and two dads have taught me, like walking, driving and buying, it becomes this thing called following a cookbook. You'd be surprised at what I can do," Luke said, trying to match Reid's dry tones.

"Not bad at all, Mr. Snyder." A pause. "Call for pizza."

"I'll make you a deal, Dr. Oliver," Luke said.

"I'm listening."

"If I end up with something really good, you have to do one thing I want you to do no matter what it is. If I serve you burnt crap, I have to do one thing that you really want. And I mean anything," Luke said, lowering his voice for effect.

"You're on speaker phone, Luke," Reid said.

Luke imagined dying right on the spot being less mortifying, at least until he heard Reid's low exhale of breath out, which would been a laugh from someone normal.

"You asshole!" Luke said.

"It's a deal," Reid said and hung up. Luke resolved to call everyone he knew for cooking tips and started with his mom.

***

His cell phone beeped – probably a text message from Reid. Luke grabbed it as he checked the roast lamb in the oven.

_Be there in 5 minutes. Your mom not around, right? _, Reid's text said.

After checking the meat thermometer, Luke texted back. _U loser. Don't text &amp; drive._

Reid didn't text back and Luke thanked God for small mercies. He got the pureed sweet potato baskets out and laid them out on a white plate. The rosemary and garlic lamb was done and needed to rest for five minutes before he cut into it, and the spinach salad was already tossed with the raspberry dressing. The old-fashioned English trifle was sitting in the fridge.

When Reid walked in, his eyes got wider and wider as Luke brought out the spinach salad. His mouth dropped open when he saw the sweet potato baskets served beside the perfectly cooked lamb. The trifle was the killing blow, and Luke watched all of it, watched Reid's face broadcast disbelief, surprise and pleasure, feeling his face ache from the wicked grin he knew was there.

"I take it back," Reid said in between mouthfuls of trifle. "You can follow directions really well."

"Just because I burned some chicken noodle soup one time – one time – doesn't mean that I can't cook."

"I was just appalled that someone burned soup and took that as an indication of lack of cooking ability," Reid said.

"It's possible," Luke said. "I just...forgot I had it on the stove, that's all."

"And therefore my lack of belief in your cooking ability, clearly proven false by now," Reid said. He smiled at Luke, not realizing that he had trifle bits in between his teeth. Luke reminded himself that it wasn't cute, that it was repulsive and gross when someone had food gumming up the gaps in their teeth. It didn't work.

After dinner, after ten minutes of telling Reid he could not put Property of Reid Oliver on the leftovers, they retreated to the living room.

"So?" Reid asked. "What's the one thing I have to do?"

"It's perverted," Luke said.

"You're such a liar."

"I hate you," Luke said.

"You're such a liar," Reid replied, a smile softening the harsh angles of his face.

"I want to have sex on top of the Empire State Building," Luke said, trying to throw Reid off.

"I would do that anyway. You didn't have to cook for it. Try again."

"I want to tie you up, gag you, blindfold you and do everything to you."

Reid smirked. "Is it Tuesday already?"

Luke laughed out loud.

"Luke, if this is about sex, I'm not in any rush. I'm a busy neurosurgeon if you haven't noticed. My left and right hands together have been pretty good to me whenever a person wasn't available." Luke rolled his eyes and met Reid's questioning gaze when he looked up.

"Left and right hand? Please," Luke said. He fiddled with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt.

"You haven't seen it yet."

"You're full of shit."

"I'm not in any rush, but I'm not stupid either. It's not like I'd say no if you offered. And if that sweetens the deal, makes you curious? I won't complain."

"It's not about sex, Reid," Luke said. After a minute, he had to ask. "It's not really that big, is it?"

Reid laughed. "It's not that big, but I promise you that you won't be disappointed."

"Oh good," Luke said. "It would have been a pain once you saw I was bigger than you. I wouldn't have been able to deal with the size drama."

Reid was laughing by the time Luke had finished talking. "Good one," he said. Luke felt Reid's hand caress his jaw. "Are you really that big?" Reid asked.

Luke made sure to flatten his voice. "It's not that big, but I promise you that you won't be disappointed."

"Ha ha."

Luke shrugged.

"You're the one who had stipulations for cooking. I'm just surprised you're not collecting on the bet, because I know I would be," Reid said.

"I didn't actually have anything in mind," Luke admitted sheepishly. "It was just a way to get you to take the bet."

"You can call the favor whenever you want."

"It was just a silly bet—"

"Whenever you want, Luke. I'm serious," Reid said.

"Okay," Luke said, feeling like he might burst. He leaned in to kiss Reid, the rightness of it settling like old knowledge in his bones.

***

_One year later_

Luke looked at Reid stuffing himself on rosemary and garlic lamb and shook his head. Why he was still charmed by it he had no clue. At least they weren't at his mom's house now, and as much as Luke loved his family, the relief that came from having his own place was immeasurable.

"Reid?" he asked.

"Mmmph?" Reid replied.

"Charming," Luke said.

Reid rolled his eyes and swallowed the monstrous bite he had taken. "What?" he asked, crabby to the core when his favorite meal was interrupted.

"Do me a favor?"

Reid raised an eyebrow.

"Marry me," Luke said, failing to keep his voice consistent, breaking in between words.

Reid's mouth hung open, his eyes comically wide. After a few seconds, he swallowed loudly and cleared his throat.

"Sure," he said. "Why not?" From what Luke could see, Reid made a conscious decision to give up the facade and grinned from ear to ear, a rare expression on his face that made Luke feel like he could conquer worlds.

Luke laughed, the line of tension he felt in him breaking, his relief like rain after a long stretch of desert summer. "Cool," he said, and got up to get the trifle.

THE END


End file.
